Caroline Munroe, Simon Scuddamore,
Not the worst, but a routine, predictable slasher movie,
tired and predictable than usual for this unspectacular genre. Every
seems to have been made by everyone in the production to give the least
amount of effort.
That's not to say that there isn't anything interesting
in this rehash,
but that is mostly of the unintentional kind. The first interesting
comes in the first few minutes, where on April Fool's Day at Doddsville
County High School, a snobbish clique of teenagers (played by actors
haven't been teens for many years) play a quite nasty joke on nerdy
(Scuddamore), fooling him into taking his clothes off in the ladies'
photographing him nude and picking him up and dunking him repeatedly in
a toilet. The interesting thing isn't the actors' ages, their sadistic
behavior, or the fact that in one scene you can see the "nude" Marty
his underwear. No, it quickly becomes apparent that this movie is a British
production when the viewer keeps looking at the clothes, the
of the school, and the fact that British accents keep slipping out.
all of this gives the movie a strange surreal feel, it also makes the
look more pathetic and phony than if it was made in America.
The gym coach walks in and saves Marty. Does he send the
clique to the
principal? Does he call their parents? No, he decided that the clique
have to.....stay after school and do push-ups! After the coach leaves,
one of the gang states, "It's all Marty's fault!" (huh?) and they
to go after Marty again. They give Marty a doctored joint (a drugged
and through contrived circumstances too inane to report, Marty's
of it leads to him being burned by fire and his face splashed with the
contents of a bottle with "NITRIC ACID" written with big letters on it.
Wait a minute - isn't nitric acid HNO3, a.k.a.
Anyway, the incident leaves Marty badly injured and the teen wondering
if they went too far.
Several years later, now looking their age, the clique
for an evening high school reunion at the now soon-to-be-demolished
school. Finding their way into the locked-up school, they find a room
a welcome banner and refreshments. Babbling inanities, they finally
out something is suspicious when the contents of a can of beer cause
intestines of one of the clique to burst out of his stomach. They
to get out, but discover that all exits out of the school are locked or
blocked. Meanwhile, a shadowy figure with a jester's mask creeps down
halls. Is it Marty? Bob Dylan? Someone else? The clique decides, like
targets in slasher movies, to stupidly separate and go to different
of the school to find an exit, giving the jester numerous possibilities
to knock them off one by one.
When a slasher flick involves revenge, the convention is
to have one
sympathetic character of the group so that the viewer will have someone
to root for and maybe identify with. But all the characters are so
so obnoxious, that we are glad to see them knocked off. Not that the
or the gore is any spectacular - although the makeup (little that there
is) is acceptable, the killings themselves lack tension and shock. Are
we supposed to be shocked when a character gets dissolved in acid when
she makes the stupid decision to take a bath during the crisis? The
does get an unintentional chuckle (she wears panties in the bath), but
the viewer will mostly be impatiently waiting for the scene to end.
Technical credits are poor as well, with some scenes so
dark I had to
turn off the lights to see what was going on. And the print looks like
it was placed in the sun for a while. As I mentioned before, the movie
seems to have been made with the least effort possible, so why should
make any kind of effort to get involved. It's not original, it's not
amusing, and it's not scary.
Well, actually there is one little thing creepy about
the movie. Shortly
after the movie was completed, Scuddamore committed suicide. With the
of this, watching the opening when his character is viciously tormented
can't help but make you wonder if acting out this torment somehow
to Scuddamore's final act.
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See also: Madman, Rituals, Voodoo